A Collection of Hymns (1780)
| Author | Charles Wesley |
|---|---|
| Type | hymn-collection |
| Year | 1780 |
| Passage ID | cw-hymns-1780-028 |
| Words | 396 |
| Source | https://www.ccel.org/ccel/wesley/hymn.html |
When youth its pride of beauty shows :
Fairer than spring the colours shine,
And sweeter than the virgin rose.
Describing Death. 4J
"6
4 Or worn by slowly -rolling years,
Or broke by sickness in a day,
The fading glory disappears,
The short-lived beauties die away.
5 Yet these, new rising from the tomb,
With lustre brighter far shall shine;
Revive with ever -during bloom,
Safe from diseases and decline.
6 Let sickness blast, and death devour,
If heaven must recompense our pains
Perish the grass, and fade the flower,
If firm the word of God remains.
1 /^OME, let us anew Our journey pursue,
^-^ Roll round with the year,
And never stand still till the Master appear.
2 His adorable will Let us gladly fulfil,
And our talents improve,
By the patience of hope, and the labour of love
3 Our life is a dream ; Our time, as a stream,
Glides swiftly away ;
And the fugitive moment refuses to stay.
4 The arrow is flown ; The moment is gone ;
The millennial year
Rushes on to our view, and eternity's here.
5 O that each in the day Of his coming may say,
" I have fought my way through ;
I have finish'd the work thou didst give me to do."
6 O that each from his Lord May receive the glad
word,
" Well and faithfully done ;
Enter into my joy and sit down on my throne."
0\) Describing JUeat/i.
HYMN 47. l. m.
1 T)ASS a few swiftly-fleeting years,
•1 And all that now in bodies live
Shall quit, like me, the vale of tears,
Their righteous sentence to receive.
2 But all, before they hence remove,
May mansions for themselves prepare
In that eternal house above ;
And, O my God, shall 1 be there ?
HYMN 48. 8's.
1 AH, lovely appearance of death !
■£*- What sight upon earth is so fair ?
Not all the gay pageants that breathe
Can with a dead body compare :
With solemn delight I survey
The corpse, when the spirit is fled,
hi love with the beautiful clay,
And longing to lie in its stead.
2 How blest is our brother, bereft
Of all that could burden his mind !
How easy the soul that has left
This wearisome body behind !
Of evil incapable, thou,